


Lessons in Fashion and Propriety

by prairiecrow



Series: Lessons in Humanity [23]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: A.I. to Human, Angels, Corsetry, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Fetish Clothing, Lace Panties, M/M, Rough Sex, Threesome - M/M/M, Transdimensional Beings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 03:37:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prairiecrow/pseuds/prairiecrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve has a lot to process concerning Jarvis's change in status, but Tony knows a few shortcuts to help him out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lessons in Fashion and Propriety

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks to teljhin, who introduced me to the idea of vest corsets. :)

Steve Rogers ran the comb over his forelock one final time, turned his head slightly to assure himself via his reflection in the bathroom mirror that it fell in a perfectly neat wave, and suppressed a hint of a resigned sigh.  

Getting ready to go out was not his favourite thing to do on a Tuesday night — or any night of the week, for that matter. He didn't exactly enjoy public appearances, even though he'd had more than enough practice with them to flash the right smile and pose for the perfect picture: given the choice between a huge party at The Plaza Hotel and a quiet evening with a good book, he'd pick an evening on the couch every time — preferably with Tony sprawled on one side of him, watching a movie on the huge screen TV and offering smart-aleck comments about everything, and Jarvis curled up on the other, absorbed in a book of his own. _That_ was Steve's idea of the perfect night, but this time… well, Tony had been booked for this New Year's Eve gala since January of the previous year ("It's got my name on it, Steve, I can't just send my regrets, even if the idea of ringing in the New Year with your cock up my ass is exponentially more appealing!"), and he'd managed to wheedle Bruce, Natasha and Clint into tagging along as well, so it was sort of an Avengers event as well and how was Steve supposed to bow out of that? 

Besides, this party was special in one very particular way: Jarvis was attending, and for once not as Tony's personal assistant. No, tonight he would be as much a guest as Steve was, and Tony had been boasting that he was looking forward to walking into the Grand Ballroom with one of them on each arm, a declaration that Steve had been weighing the sincerity of for the better part of three days. On the one hand, the thought of being in said position in relation to Tony Stark — openly, publicly, beyond a shadow of a doubt — was exhilarating: he was proud as hell of Tony, and while wearing the red gold and yellow gold rings on the ring finger of his left hand was a clear statement of shared devotion to both the men he considered his husbands, it was a private one that could be easily overlooked by the general public. On the other hand, stepping in front of the cameras with his hand tucked firmly into the crook of Tony's elbow and letting the world press drink in the spectacle was an unequivocal shout from the rooftops — and the uproar in response was guaranteed to be spectacular, not only because _Iron Man_ was involved with _Captain America_ ,  but because there would also obviously be a third person in the equation: the tall blond on Tony's other arm, wearing a slim-cut Armani suit of rich indigo and a slight smile of perfect satisfaction. 

The thought of the second or two of stunned silence when they appeared together, and the chaos that would surely follow, made Steve wince slightly at his own reflection even as he tilted his head again to check his profile from the other side. Well, if he was destined to hit the front page of every major newspaper tomorrow at least he was looking his absolute best: Tony had supplied him with a gorgeous charcoal grey suit of his own, one that had cost a truly obscene amount of money but which, Steve had to admit, fit him like a dream. He set down the comb, gave his tie a final pointless tug — a suit that cost _three figures_ , what kind of world was he living in now? — and hesitated, wondering yet again if Tony was actually going to go through with it. 

As if on cue, the brunet's voice floated in cheerfully from the bedroom: "Steve? C'mon, your hair looks amazing and you know it!" 

This time the sigh escaped. Exhilarating, heck yes — and terrifying, but he'd never backed down from a challenge in his life and he wasn't about to start now. In five hours and thirty-two minutes it would be 2014, gay marriage was legal in the State of New York, and if anybody broke out the words _fag_ or _queer_ in relation to the men Steve loved he'd be happy to teach the insulting party better manners in no uncertain terms.  

With that prospect stiffening his spine, he exited the bathroom decisively — and immediately came to a brief halt, because the sight that met his eyes was well worth taking a moment to appreciate. Jarvis was standing in front of the bedroom's full-length mirror, checking the fit of his own suit — it definitely wasn't the outfit he usually wore to these events, a neat black ensemble that called to mind a classic butler's uniform, no, this fabric practically shone with the sleek glow of conspicuous wealth on shameless display — and evidently Tony hadn't been able to keep his hands off it, because he'd cosied his black-clad self right up against Jarvis's back and was running his hands slowly over the slender man's waist and hips, murmuring something in the ear closest to Steve and grinning lecherously. Judging by Jarvis's sweet smile the love and desire was fully reciprocated — 

— but the tableau they presented made Steve hesitate for an entirely different reason, because one of the "men" in question wasn't a man at all, at least not in the common sense. A couple of days ago Tony had gone out of his way to demonstrate that Jarvis was fully on board with being kissed and caressed and made love to (including the bondage and discipline that his lovers took delight in inflicting), and spilling two orgasms inside Jarvis's willing body had gone a long way toward convincing Steve that Jarvis was indeed capable of maintaining an aspect that was close to human even under considerable stress, but that didn't change the fact that Jarvis was definitely _not_ human, not any longer. And although Steve was certain that Angels of the Lord didn't whimper and moan and plead for cock the way Jarvis had when Steve had put him to the test, he also couldn't think of any other word that suited Jarvis's new state of being better — he might choose to wear a mortal man's mask at this moment, while Tony was kissing the sliver of pale nape visible between the collar of his expensive dress shirt and his immaculate blond hairline, but Steve had seen what he was capable of becoming: a creature of pure light with wings both elegant and glorious, able to soar into flight or to smite his enemies with devastating radiant power. 

No, nothing close to human anymore. In a real sense the vulnerable being of flesh and blood who Tony and Steve had sworn to protect from all dangers had died on a dark rooftop nine days ago, executed by a bullet from a terrorist's gun. What had arisen from the ashes was still Jarvis — every contour of it, every trick of body language, every cadence of speech prompted a loving response in Steve's soul — but it was also far more, and those additional qualities awakened reverence as much as desire.  

Hence his hesitation. He was still standing there a couple of seconds later when Tony looked round, smirking.  

"Hey Steve," and he freed his left hand from Jarvis's waist to beckon, "come here, I want to show you something." 

Jarvis was still studying his own neatly buttoned-up reflection, clearly pleased with what he saw. And after a moment Steve obeyed the summons, crossing the rich carpet to join them by the bed. Tony reached out to catch hold of his right wrist and pull him around between Jarvis and the mirror, guiding his right hand to the place his own had recently occupied on Jarvis's narrow waist. "Well, maybe 'show' isn't quite the right word… feel anything special?" 

Frowning slightly, reluctant to meet Jarvis's clear unblinking gaze, Steve ran his hand over the slick luxurious fabric — and detected the taut surface of tight leather beneath jacket and vest and shirt, his fingers catching on the fine lines of binding straps and delicate buckles. His gaze shot from Jarvis's tie to his face, where dwelled a slight and secret smile whose meaning Steve knew perfectly well, and he felt his own pulse quicken in his lips and his fingertips, flowing eagerly into his decorously arranged cock. 

Tony, who was wearing heels that brought him to the same height as Jarvis, leaned in and pressed his cheek to the side of Jarvis's head, grinning outrageously. "Something you like?" he asked softly. 

Steve had to swallow the rush of hungry saliva on his tongue before speaking one soft word, "Yeah," while memories of the first time he'd seen Jarvis wearing a vest corset flooded his mind and his body: a snapshot attached to a text from Tony, of Jarvis with his formal business suit flayed open from neck to hips in a public bathroom to reveal what lay beneath, black leather and heavy fabric and the gleam of those wicked little buckles, accompanied by nine words: _Think you can beat us back to the Tower?_ He hadn't, but the visuals that had greeted him when he'd bolted from the elevator into the living room had more than made up for losing that particular race. 

"I had him throw in some black lace panties too," Tony was elaborating, covering Steve's hand with his and guiding it around the small of Jarvis' back (more leather binding him fast), into the pool of welcoming warmth between their close-pressed bodies, pulling him almost against Jarvis's neatly clad chest. "And maybe a garter belt and stockings… J?" 

"I'd rather not say, Sir," Jarvis murmured, tilting his head a little to look up into Steve's eyes with heated promise that bolted straight down Steve's spine and stiffened his prick in an instant. "A certain aura of mystery is vital in these matters, wouldn't you agree?" 

 _Damn,_ Steve thought through the heat-haze simmering back up to his brain from his genitals, _he really hasn't changed, not where it counts. He's still ready to tie himself up for our pleasure, and he'll get off on knowing that we're thinking about his fetish wear all evening long, and when we get back home —_  

He leaned a little closer, almost into a kiss, and drew a shallow breath, tasting Jarvis's scent with his enhanced senses: the faint perfume of shampoo and soap, the more subtle deliciousness of clean hair and skin, and something _other_ , not quite electricity and not quite embers, burning sweetly at the core of it all. But most powerfully the presence of leather panels and straps, and fine metal buckles, and yes, lace and silk that Steve's hands were already itching to reach down and slide inside, to roughly fondle and tug what lay beneath before stripping — no, _ripping_ the panties off him… then pushing him back onto the bed to crawl between his opened legs, running hard fingers over the smooth nylons sheathing his thighs to force them further apart while Jarvis's clever hands worked swiftly to free his Master's cock, stroking and coaxing and jazzing him up for a good hard fuck while Tony was busy fetching the lube —  

The impulse must have shone clearly in Steve's eyes, because Tony chuckled and reached up to curve a proud hand around the back of his neck. "That's my boys," he crooned, and tugged with gentle adamance, pulling Steve that last fraction of an inch to meld his lips to Jarvis's in a slow, sweet kiss… and if that kiss smouldered in ways that hinted at more that merely blood-heat, Steve honestly couldn't find it in his heart to experience more than a momentary pang of disquiet or regret. Tony let them enjoy it thoroughly, then coaxed Steve over for a quick hot kiss of his own. "Now come on — we've got heart attacks to cause all over this great and glorious land of ours!" 

Gazing into Tony's merry dark eyes while Jarvis pressed tender lips to his jawline, Steve smiled in his turn, because life with his husbands was nothing if not endlessly interesting — and things may have radically changed, but certainly not for the worse. 

THE END


End file.
